MQuinny1234 wrote:Hmm, I could make it that she uses her drain/decay power to keep herself young, but that would still men she had the body of a nine year-old, is that okay? Although I could just make it that she can change her age...I'll work on making it a legitimate power but how would you feel about a character that could absorb life in a way that she can also make whatever she touches decay, and can use some of her stored energy to change her age?

Being old but looking young is perfectly fine. The power's OK for now, but I won't say anything for sure until you completely write it out. I'd come up with a back-up ability, just in case.

Appearance: Jacks is tall at 5’11 with a broad chest and strong arms, the strength gained through physical labour. Jacks is usually slouching, making himself seem a bit shorter. He has almost shoulder-length sandy blond hair. He keeps his hair in an exceptionally short ponytail and leaves it messy around his face.

He’s fairly pale but covered in dark freckles from being out in the sun. He usually has a small smile and his bright blue eyes tend to follow whoever he’s talking to. He has a small scar over his right eye, and a large one on his back. He got the scar on his back when he worked with his father.

Jacks usually wears a red and black plaid fleece jacket left opened over a black long-sleeve collared-shirt layered under a plain grey t-shirt. He wears pale blue jeans and dark brown work boots as well. In the winter he closes his jacket and wears a dark grey bomber hat and brown leather gloves with tan fleece on the inside. When he can, Jacks brings around his dark red chainsaw, holding it over one shoulder.

Personality: Jacks is generally a pretty calm guy and he’s not used to people or crowds, after spending most of his time in the forest or helping building boats for the fishermen with his father.

If you insult him, he won’t be too happy and will insult you back. He’s surprisingly kind despite his slightly scary physical stature and he’s a bit nervous that he’ll intimidate people. He’s determined to help the mutants around him, and to survive. He's a bit of a meddler, he always wants to help others. He’s kind of a softy and has a thing for cute things and animals. He follows lead fairly well and is respectful to the leaders, even if he doesn’t like them.

He’s a Canadian, through and through. Polite and kind, but sometimes sarcastic.

History: Matthew was raised by his single father after his mother died when having him. Eric was a bear of a man, but always caring and loving to his son, if not entirely gentle. Matthew first showed signs of his power at about five or six, when his father threw him up and the shield protected him from slamming head-first into the ceiling, again. Eric was surprised, but he shrugged it off; if it was protecting his son from accidents, it couldn’t be all bad. They lived in a cabin near the lumberyard, and Eric taught Matthew how to hunt, to fish and to built shelter, just in case he got lost.

When he was ten, Matthew started going with his father to the lumber yard, proud to be like his dad. A couple of his father’s co-workers, primarily ship-builders, started calling him the ‘Little Logger’ and when Matthew asked his father what a logger was Eric responded with a LumberJack. Matthew thought that was cuter, so he walked to the men and asked them to call him the Little LumberJack, and Little Jacks stuck.

His father was one of the men to die in the first year, forcing his son to run. Matthew was thirteen. He didn’t fight, he just ran, afraid for this life, terrified that his father was dead. But he knew he had to keep going, Father told him to. He found a small group of mutants in what was Labrador, helping to keep people alive and doing what work they told him to do. He never told them his name though, “Jus’ call me, Littl’ Jacks.”

It’s been five years since he came to the community. And he wants to leave the small community, taking his chainsaw with him. He’s on his way.

Powers: Jacks can make translucent blue energy type force-fields, which are fairly strong. There are a few problems with his powers, he generally has to pay attention to the shields because they can be hard to keep solid, and he can only use it for a short amount of time. Short being 5 minutes over his hands with a one minute cool-down and only a minute for a three man shield with a five minute cool-down time. If he doesn’t adhere to the times, he pays for it. The blood vessels close to the skin will break, causing painful bruises and blood to drool out from around his eyes, down from his nostrils and ears and from his mouth.

I'll be posting a CS soon, although I think I may have to double-check with you Imenak about my character's particular mutation.

EDIT:

Name: "The Alley Girl" or "Tag"Age: 16Gender: FemaleAppearance: Thin as a blade and just as sharp, Tag should've ended up malnourished, but instead she's just whip-like muscle. She's surprisingly tall at 5'9, but probably only weighs 110 pounds in total. Her parents had a mixed heritage and it shows, her skin is dark and her eyes are large, almond-shaped and crimson-colored. Her hair is brutally short and dark brown. Her choice of clothes comes entirely from the trash she can find in the alleys with no regard for fashion.Personality: Self-centered, tactless and completely amoral at her core The Alley Girl is more of an Alley Cat. She could be called primitive and that wouldn’t entirely be wrong. Her vocabulary does not go beyond middle-school level and she has not matured much beyond that age either. Tag is not fully aware that other people exist and have their own feelings and needs, people are either a danger or sources for food and protection. When she talks to people, it is always with the express aim of getting something out of it, she does not smalltalk or chatter. Life in the alleyways has made her intent on only one thing: Survival.History: Tag does not remember much of her past, but she can recall some early memories. A mother in a house with a yard, school and friends. The concept has become so strange to her, but Tag really did have friends long ago. In these far-off memories she is very small and it is the only time when she can remember her hands clean and smooth. Several details elude her like her name or her mother's face, but The Alley Girl remembers those days as happy ones. The Alley Girl does not know how she wound up in the alleys, but she knows it's been a long time. She has never bothered to keep track of the days, but if she did she would know that she had spent two years of her life scampering through the streets of <insert city name> scavenging. Barely able to keep herself fed and alive, every day has been a struggle, there's never enough food or drink and strangers always come probing. What they want, Tag doesn't know, but she'd rather not find out.Powers:Anti-Telepathy: One of the reasons Tag has been able to disappear for so long is because she is immune to telepathic intrusion or detection. Simply put, her mind works on a different level than most people, if a telepath were to try to read her mind they'd just hear/see static. It would be like reading the mind of a rock.Perfect Body Control: Tag's brain is unerringly conscious of every flex of muscle, breath and step. She will never make a clumsy mistake and her coordination is absolutely precise.Multiplicative Force: This is almost like telekinesis except not. Basically Tag can take an object already in motion and double its velocity. The problem is she has to keep her mind and her eyes focused on the object for a while. Most of the times whatever thing she wants to speed up will have already struck its target and come to a rest or otherwise just slipped away.

Other:Tag is probably the most physical telepath there ever was.Other than the clothes on her back, Tag's sole possession is a knife.Writing Sample:

James Randi.

The mother would say the name over and over as she paced back and forth, sometimes with a “fuck” thrown in. The mother glanced at Tag and collapsed into a chair. “He don’t know shit.”

Tag blinked at her mother and knew better than to ask what she meant. The mother stared at Tag for a long while before bursting out with a laugh, so Tag laughed with her. They shared the same wheezing chuckle that made an odd “hyuuhyuu” sound. It was a reserved laugh, like you were trying to keep quiet in church, but just couldn’t help yourself. Tag didn’t know why they were laughing, but she followed along with the mother anyways.

“Hyuuhyuuhyuu...”

Tag’s eyes opened as the rumble of a car engine woke her. Vibrations of growling metal and rubber translated itself from the beat-up mattress into Tag’s back and faded into her toes and fingers. It was a big car. The Alley Girl sat up and listened and felt. The car was still running, but not going anywhere.

Her eyes went to the Wall while her hand went to Little Debbie. The Wall was not like the walls to the north, south and west of her which were made of brick and mortar. The Wall was made of black plastic and trash and towered nearly 4 meters into the air. It was stronger than the stone walls because it didn’t just block people, it repelled people. No one went near the Wall, no one but The Alley Girl.

“Where is it?”

A loud voice. In the alley Tag had no one to speak to, but she had heard others talk and this one was the loudest by far. It was a man and though he was speaking, it is to no one. Tag knows this because there are only two footsteps thudding against the cement. Combat boots. A soldier or just an asshole as the mother would have said.

The Wall trembles slightly as the man reaches it and starts pulling at bags. He hates the smell and curses it loudly, but he keeps grabbing up bags and this makes The Alley Girl scared. The man was stupid or simply did not care, but the Wall would topple soon.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck. Where is it?” The man utters the words harshly. The bags are snatched up faster, flung farther and the Wall begins to crumble.

A garbage bag drops a meter away from Tag and pops like a balloon, spilling out its plastic utensil guts. It is then that The Alley Girl makes up her mind.

Tag moves back to her mattress and picks it up. Tag drags it to the Wall, puts the mattress on its side. The mattress spreads itself against the Wall like a giant hand and Tag lowers her shoulder and throws her body against it.

The Wall lurches immediately and bags peel from the top, going overboard on the man’s side. Tag can hear the foghorn voice yelling and she plows into the mattress again. The floor trembles as hundreds of pounds of trash crash to the ground. The Wall is no longer the Wall, it has become The Pile.

Tag moves her mattress away and tries not to think of the smell she’ll have to suffer tonight. Tag can not see the concrete, only the black plastic of the bags. A bag lurches up and falls over.

“Fuckfuckfuck!”

The man’s face is lashed with red streaks where broken glass had cut him and there are spots of black that could be dirt or shit or anything. His eyes are snapped shut and he is screaming. Always Fuck. Tag needs him to shut up. The man has only one free hand, the rest of him is buried and he tries to grab at another bag, but the angle is bad and he just makes the plastic ruffle.

Tag takes Little Debbie from her sheath and begins to clear a path through the garbage. She does not want to end up going through a bag of glass the way the man’s face did, so she kicks aside a bag and it rolls aside with a crackle.

The man looks up immediately. For once, the man is not screaming or cursing. Perhaps for the first time in his life, he is earnestly listening.

“Who’s there?”

Tag pushes another bag out of the way.

“Get away! Stay back! I’ll kill you!”

The man tries to pull himself free again, but the bags only jiggle before sagging back into place.

“I mean it, I’ll kill you!”

Veins appear across the man’s forehead like cracks and begin to pulse. Tag looks at the veins pounding for only a moment before moving another bag.

“DIE FUCK DIE DIE DIE”

The Alley Girl kicks another bag out of the way and leans over the man.

Tag found Little Debbie poking through the insides of one of the bags long ago, weeks or months or maybe years. It was a gleam of pearly white in a sea of black and Tag gravitated towards it like a cat to nip. Tag nearly cut herself rescuing Little Debbie from the plastic bag, but it was worth it. Six inches of steel, a single blade, tip gracefully curved, it was thick and thin in all the right places. On its side was its name, Debbie.

Little Debbie goes in the man’s throat once and then twice. The veins in the man’s head fade. Tag watches the blood gush out, a fresh rush for each heartbeat until it finally it just dribbles out. Tag is careful not to get any of the blood on herself as she begins to pile up the bags again. She needed the Wall up again.

Last edited by BobSagat on Sat Dec 15, 2012 4:54 pm, edited 8 times in total.

Anyway, haven’t done the History section yet because I’m not quite sure of the specifics yet. I was thinking of having Hiram currently in some remote location in Tibet, learning to balance out his powers and perhaps trying to work through Xavier’s blocks on his mind. But I’m open to collaborations and other suggestions for now. The codename change will be explained in there, but it should be self-explanatory given the rest of the sheet.

Name: Hiram O’Dwyer Codename: PariahAge: 22Gender: M

Appearance: Hiram is, on the whole, a great deal healthier than he was six years ago. His height seems to have evened out with others in his age group, perhaps remaining just a little on the shorter end of medium (around 5’10” – he hasn’t really ever bothered to measure himself). He will always be a little on the wiry side, but has fleshed himself out well in comparison to his older self, a strict regimen of training and constant travel having contributed to a lithe, proportionally well-muscled frame suited to acrobatics. His features are austere, angular, and a little bit fey, and though he is somewhat more flushed than he was at sixteen he remains quite pale. He pays little attention to his hair, which is dark and begins to curl lightly as it falls past his browline. His eyes have grown progressively stranger, their sclera turning pitch black and irises shining with cold, starry light.

Personality: Hiram was never going to be the life of any parties, but he has in general become a lot less impassive since his Institute days. He is still a quite taciturn young man, but his receptiveness to others and his ability to emote has grown by leaps and bounds. He’s even grown back some sense of humour. His imploding, self-destructive worldview has remained fundamentally nihilistic but has outgrown many of his previous considerations about his own worth. He is still almost entirely unmaterialistic, but has come to greatly value his life and the lives of others – he is, in fact, one of the few people who can say that they need nothing for themselves other than their own life. To him, the simple act of living is the point of existence, rather than what one can cram into their life. That said, while he wants little for himself, he is highly driven to perfect himself and maintain not only his existence but those of others. Over the years he has become something of an uncompromising taskmaster to himself – he pushes himself continually further, urges himself to be continually better, and wakes up every day with the aim of increasing his capability and developing his understanding.

History: Hiram was hurt badly during the assault on Genosha. Drawing a trio of Brotherhood mutants away from his team, he was eventually cornered amidst the infrastructure of Magneto’s stronghold. He spent much of the encounter stalling for time, but eventually it became evident that if he could not escape or defeat his opponents he would be killed and they would cut off his team’s route out of Genosha. Driving his power to its uppermost limits, he managed to incapacitate two of his opponents before loss of blood and the strain of his unchecked ability brought him down. Perhaps fortunately for Hiram, though, his power had been pushed too far to be so easily reigned in and (partly due to interference from the mutant Phantazia), his rampant abilities had disturbed enough of the surrounding building’s framework to send a good chunk of it – Hiram and Phantazia included – crashing down towards the coastline. His departure from Genosha was owed mostly to luck – he was found and brought to safety by a gaggle of mutant civilians fleeing the battle-torn isle. He never found out what happened to Phantazia, or the other two Brotherhood mutants that were caught up in the destruction.

When Hiram and his rescuers returned to the mainland, they were not given a particularly warm welcome. They were driven underground almost immediately, and, deprived of any particularly skilled medical treatment, Hiram could rely only on time and rest to get him back into shape. It was not long before the first camps were established, and Hiram had barely begun to recover from his wounds. In a show of solidarity that he has not been quick to forget, the mutants who had returned with him tried their best to remain on the run with him in tow, but were outmanoeuvred and captured within a matter of days, Hiram along with them.

Hiram would spend the next half a year in an internment camp on the West Coast, nursing his wounds and gathering what he could of what was transpiring in the outside world from new arrivals. He quickly found that, while there were a few other mutants from the Xavier Institute in holding there, he was the only one that had been on an X-team. The realization came as a sudden rush of responsibility – the flow of information from outside was chaotic, vague and incomplete, especially in the early days, and for all he and anyone else in the camp knew, Hiram had become ‘the last X-Man’. He quickly became a baffled and at first rather reluctant source of counsel, mediating between other prisoners and forming a stable, discreet infrastructure that made life generally more bearable. This period would serve to profoundly shape his future outlook, the drive to survive despite having nothing that he observed in the other prisoners forcing him to reconsider certain previous stances. Hiram had thought his life pointless, and saw his desire to continue living as paradoxical and erroneous, but existence in the camp introduced him to the idea that there was meaning in life itself, not the content of that life.

During this time, Hiram’s most enthusiastic helper was one Molly Hayes – a self-professed ‘fan’ of the X-Men and one of the younger mutants at the camp. As it happened, she was fated to be the agent of his salvation. The camps were designed to be virtually impregnable to the mutants held within its boundaries, but it turned out that Molly had friends who weren’t mutants. One of those friends, a witch of some potential, managed to complete a ritual that opened an interdimensional passage straight into the camp from the outside world (likely using one of the hell dimensions as a medium, judging by the accompany stench of sulphur). Though the window of opportunity was small, it was large enough for Hiram to oversee a complete escape, leaving the camp devoid of mutants (and, once the freed mutants were outside the bounds of the various fail safes in place, there wasn’t much camp left either).

Many of those previously in captivity scattered to the winds, moving in small, inconspicuous groups towards the coast, where they’d either make their way to one of the areas still considered neutral ground or make for the rising homo-superior empire of Mutant-Prime. A few remain with Hiram, tagging along with Molly’s friends and striking at a number of camps set up along the West Coast. When Master Mold came to ascendancy as the second great power of the world, Hiram was beginning to realize just how caustic and destructive his presence had become, and soon he chose to leave the ‘frontlines’ in search of relative isolation. He found his way onboard one the clandestine ferries transporting mutants to their blossoming empire, and, making an unfruitful attempt to convince Molly and her friends to join him (patrols of imperialistic mutants are far more fallible and easier to avoid than inscrutable machines, after all), departed from the United States.

This is where his trail goes mostly cold. He definitely passed through India, and then apparently managed to find his way to the old home of his mother’s family, Israel, where he remained only very briefly. He seemed to stalk Mesopotamia for a while, popping up in Turkey, Syria and Iraq (particularly, the tomb of Sheikh Adi ibn Mufasir, in Lalish). He had frequent encounters with the militant arm of Mutant Prime’s empire in this part of the world, and the stories they have spawned have become widespread. While, in truth, Hiram is not merely ‘radioactive’ in the conventional sense, it was this aspect of his mutation that captured the imaginations of those that came into brief contact with him. He became known to some as ‘the Oppenheimer’ or ‘the Child of the Bomb’. Others rumours call him ‘Boy Trinity’, in reference to the first recorded nuclear bomb test performed in 1945. When they passed through Russian lips, the stories began to refer to him as ‘Tsar Bomba’ – the nickname given to the only 50 megaton nuclear device to have ever been detonated. For Mutant Prime’s legions in the Middle East, Hiram was a nuclear boogieman; an embodiment of all the fears that drove the Cold War. A few rumours have circulated that assert, quite wrongly, that he is not a mutant at all, but some kind of radioactive zombie. Another tall tale – one which many of Mutant Prime’s officers believe – tells that the mysterious Boy Trinity must never be killed, only warded off, for if he were to perish he would explode with the force of a 100 megaton nuclear bomb (the exact number varies – some sources, holding to the Tsar Bomba parallel, state 50 megatons. Others exaggerate the figure to 200 upwards). From Mesopotamia he ventured further East, and for now has come to a stop at Mount Kailash in Tibet, where he spends his days meditating, contemplating, and trying to work through the blocks placed upon his mind by Professor Xavier, believing that they are preventing him from ‘balancing out’ his power.

Powers: As Hiram has grown, his powers have strayed further and further from the original, beautiful shape they had in his early childhood, and become even less about reshaping than degenerating and perverting reality. When active, his mutation is plainly visible, swathing Hiram in an aura of unsettling distortion that seems to radiate from his head. Space seems to fold and deepen, the air becoming murky and discoloured closer to his crown, where the field originates from a corona of shifting black and Cherenkov-blue radiance (a typical sign of atomic decay). There is an ethereal impression about this; he appears strangely cut-out and discontinuous with the world around him, as though he is somehow not-quite there.

The crux of his power is that he can channel it through him in a manner that acts as antithesis to the natural world. Air superheats, wood shatters and turns to ash, metal warps, and flesh melts and writhes at his touch. He can corrupt and destroy most systems with simple physical contact or project the effect into his immediate atmosphere, and has become quite adept at specifying the kind of chaos he ‘injects’ into matter (for example, he has a knack for explosively evaporating the liquid in materials). It is possible for this power to induce rapid ionization and radioactive phenomena, such as small criticality events. On several occasions Hiram has made his own body ‘antithetical’, turning it into blazing crucible of nuclear heat. As if in response to the degradation of his powers, Hiram’s body has adapted to flourish in the most poisonous of environments. While the harmful energies his own powers produce simply have no effect upon him at all, Hiram seemingly has an affinity for naturally occurring sources of hurt. He can sense harmful energies close to his location, and, oddly, purely harmful forces have the exact opposite of their normal effects upon his body – they rejuvenate and heal Hiram rather than sickening him. This trait only applies to forces that are exclusively harmful; for example, background radiation. Energies such as heat, electricity, kinetics, etc, still affect Hiram normally, as it is not their nature that is harmful but their intensity.

There is a downside to such intense destructive power. Hiram’s mutation pushes at the walls of the universe, and the universe pushes back. This is subtly noticeable even when his powers are inactive – while mutants, many superhumans, and people with a particularly elevated or enlightened state of mind seem immune, something about Hiram prompts automatic distrust and dislike from others. This can be conquered, but there will always remain a certain unease in the minds of those around him. When he openly uses his powers this unease is magnified a hundred fold. Something prompts humans (and other animals) to make life harder for him – weak-willed humans often attack with little regard for their own lives, driven to destroy Hiram with the single-minded tenacity of antibodies attacking a foreign bacteria. The more mentally stable, healthy and strong a person is, the better equipped they are to reason with and deny these urges, but excessive spectacles of Hiram’s ability can often overpower the most well-disciplined men and women. Aside from this, there are other factors that seem to place a wedge between Hiram and the general population. Exposure to his abilities, or simply prolonged exposure to him or his general vicinity, can cause harrowing nightmares (often involving Hiram). His extended presence in an area causes flora to either die or develop in strange, poisonous ways. Fauna tends to become either indolent to the point of death by inactivity or aggressive to the extreme. Crops go bad. Children come out wrong. In general, his presence is simply caustic to the world.

Other:1. Hiram attempts to avoid outward use of his powers if he can. He is an exceptional combatant, infiltrator and general survivor, and these skills are likely to be showcased before Hiram starts hurling around any obvious uses of his mutation.2. While rarely fluent, Hiram as picked up parts of a few languages. Unfortunately, the ones of which he has the most complete understanding are mostly dead.3. His mother’s maiden name is Tavas. 4. Hiram’s family, on his mother’s side, has been Yazidi for several centuries, and while Hiram observes virtually none of the taboos or customs, he vaguely believes in Melek Taus and the Seven Mysteries. 5. Hiram views words as the most fundamental proof of life. He has saved and kept several rare scriptures along the course of his travels, including one of the Dead Sea Scrolls, an extract of the Mithraic Chronicles, an original manuscript of the Perfection of Wisdom texts, and two pages of the semi-mythical Goetic Gospel. These are perhaps the only physical, non-living things Hiram values.

Yes, Hiram has become a Lovecraftian horror.

Last edited by Fellguarde on Tue Sep 27, 2011 12:33 pm, edited 5 times in total.

BobSagat wrote:Question:What about Antartica? Seems like a good place for last-ditch fortress.

Indeed. ;D

@Fellguarde: I'm not entirely sure how willing I am to accept your powers just yet, as usual. They seem absurdly powerful, but there doesn't seem to be anything to stop someone from punching him in the face. On that note, he should probably move slower than the agents. I'd prefer not to see anyone dodging bullets or something. I'll probably wait until other veterans post before I say anything about nerfing or changing his powers though... see how he is in line with others, then start nerfing or instructing people to buff themselves.

@Keiran: Everyone who gets accepted will find out once the game gets going. Including me! It'll be easier to figure out how to get everyone together once I know what kind of characters I'll be dealing with, and where they've decided to base themselves.

Age: 24 (CS says 17, but iirc he had his 18th birthday IC before the Christmas break chapter)

Gender: Male

Appearance: Benjamin stands at 6'2" and has a large frame. His hair is jet black and eyes are a hazelnut shade of brown. He typically keeps his hair cut short, but without a barber for the past few years it has grown out and he's had someone braid his hair into cornrows. He keeps toned and in shape out of necessity. He has an intimidating presence, but he's not crazy ripped. He wears contacts and usually wears a pair of black sunglasses to match whatever he's wearing. His brown skin now sports a tattoo sleeve on his right arm consisting of tribal markings and the names of fallen friends and heroes. He also bares the marks of a war torn veteran.

He has many burns and scars that will never fully heal. His face has many nicks, and small cuts as evidence of damage. Most noticeable though is the long scar starting from his left arm, going up the left side of his chest, to his chin, right cheek and ending near the corner of his right eye. His closest brush with death left him that scar as a constant reminder to finish one's opponent. He generally wears a pair of black cargo pants, steel toed boots, a gun metal bullet proof vest, a tattered trench coat, and a b/w bandana.

He keeps a machete at his hip all but when he sleeps and has a holstered, high powered laser hand gun on the inside pocket of his trench coat. It's solar powered so he uses the gun sparingly. It's effective enough to handle a situation where his powers are dampened or disrupted and once it's fully charged it can hold said charge indefinitely until discharged. In the sun the gun has an extended magazine due to being charged while in use, but maybe an extra couple of shots will fire before it shuts down to recharge. The machete is military grade alloy, mostly for clearing foliage and hunting but it's had it's fair share of blood.

Personality: He's more or less like a gentle giant. He's strong and courageous when need be, but playful and carefree during down time. He's stalwart, an old fashion type of guy as he has morals and virtues that he lives by. He's slow to anger, but his rage is explosive when he does get mad. In most situations, he acts more so in a defensive manner, and only uses offensive tactics when necessary and vice-versa when he's pissed. While he is still generally the same guy, the world has been through much since then and Ben has become more responsible and a lot colder and detached than before. He tries to laugh when he can, and is a lot less emotional about things he can’t control. He's a proponent of the no man left behind policy and after seeing many people suffer at the hands of both mutant and sentinel alike, he made it his mission to see no more losses on his own watch. He can get reckless when it comes to protecting his own, and is willing to go the extra mile to ensure the safety of the group over his own well being.

History: After the X-Men's defeat on the isle of Genosha, Benjamin fled the island and went into hiding. It wasn't long after the Professor's deathly coma that he began to lose what control he had managed to gain at the X-Institute. With the blocks no longer there, the floodgates where opened and what he used to do without breaking a sweat was nigh impossible for him without intense concentration. His body remembered this intense feeling, flashbacks he'd buried came back full force and this all sent shivers down his spine. Seen as a menace by humans and a danger to other mutants, he was of no use to any one this way. He chose to isolate himself and train to regain a handle on himself and his power. He relied on the lessons taught to him at the Institute and vowed that the Professor's work wouldn't be in vain.

The years he spent running from mutants and humans alike deep in the heart of Africa went to bare much fruit. In time he managed to regain control and eventually went on to fine tune the abilities he already had while gaining a few more along the way. He was found a lot and with each encounter he fought to survive, and he did. He became quite the survivalist and with each attempt on his life he got better at hiding, covering his tracks, and the combative use of his powers. With each passing year his powers got stronger and he continued to expand his arsenal of techniques as he traversed the Dark Continent.

When he deemed himself ready, Benjamin came out of hiding using the code name Psychal, given to him by the X-Men. He fought against the mutants vying for world domination, but his efforts where too little too late. Sentinels were starting to get out of hand and before the world knew it, the mutant threat wasn't the only problem bearing down on humanity. The rise of the sentinels left much death and destruction in its wake, and Benjamin found himself working with resistance cells after leaving the continent to head west towards the place he once called home. All the while trying to help however he could along the way. His life on the run paid off and he was able to help prolong the survival of many efforts before they were ultimately found out by Sentinel advances or Mutant scout parties looking for territory and people. Despite efforts to pin him down, he somehow managed to escape, usually leaving behind broken bodies or sentinel scraps in his wake.

Despite his best efforts not to, he began to notice he was building a small following. The few who avoided capture or death with him refused to leave his side, so he would take them along to the next place, teaching what he knew through example. It was around this time that he ran into Mickey, who was supplying the resistance he was with at the time and a few others in the surrounding area. It helped to know a familiar face was around, and he'd crack open a beer, light a cigar, and reminisce whenever Mickey came by for a supply run. In the passed year he began leading a resistance cell of his own made of the remnants of old cells and anyone willing to join them. Though he never forced the issue, he could feel the presence of another familiar form around his camp. She always stayed on the outskirts, making sure to remain undetected by all but him. He'd dealt with followers of Mutant-Prime and espionage wasn't a readily used part of their repertoire, so he never said anything about it. From time to time he would sense something else stalking the camp. He was never quite sure what it was, and still doesn't. Far from a regular occurrence, he chose not to panic the group. It never ventured close enough for his dog to react or show hostility so he tends to ignore it lest it gets too close for comfort. Ever vigilant about the cell's safety, he does move them when this creature shows up and never to the exact same place lest someone discover a pattern making them easier to predict and locate.

In time, Hisui showed herself to him on her own, only after lights out though. He was happy to see her and in Cuba of all places. It was comforting to him knowing his former leader had his back and sparked a little light that had been absent in his eyes for sometime. He never blamed her for what happened, just happy to know another of Xavier's pupil's, and from Cortana no less, made it off Genosha alive. They would exchange info regularly, him providing tales of the world's decent into this hellish apocalypse, and her briefing him on possible threats in the vicinity or aid from Mickey. Though each loss was tough on him, it helped him grow and thicken his skin. He keeps going knowing he has the support of his comrades and the trust of his followers.

Powers: Telekinesis - the ability to effect the physical world with the mind.

Since his time at the Xavier Institute, Benjamin has grown into the full use of his powers. With the Professor’s demise, the blocks set to keep him safe have long since dissipated and his already potent abilities have grown from the time of their initial manifestation and mutated. Aside from the sheer magnitude in the growth of his fine manipulation and destructive force, he is now able to generate small constructs of pure telekinetic energy: bridges, walls, personal force fields, melee weapons, and grenades are all that he can generate. The telekinetic items he generates have a purple hue to them and are extremely strong and durable. The light this solid energy produces isn't very strong or bright, but enough to illuminate ones face in a soft purple glow or the items immediate vicinity in pitch black darkness.

He can move, lift, agitate, spin, bend, break, or impact things with his mind. In addition to traditional object manipulation, he can push his body to near super human levels of strength, speed, jumping, etc. He can make himself and others “fly” with his mental prowess. He can also fire "bursts" of telekinesis, that blast outwards in waves of air distortions. These blasts are much more potent in their pushing power (and are rather destructive) in comparison to just ordinary manipulation. The more focused the blast of telekinetic energy, the stronger it is, and he can release a full 360 degree explosion of crushing force if the need arises. He can also ensnare weary opponents in a spherical field of telekinetic energy, applying pressure to their entire body. The larger the field the weaker it is, and it takes his full concentration to use leaving him very vulnerable to attack. At most he can immobilize a sentinel or two for a short time if they are close enough together and he mainly uses it when he's after goods and supplies so no one gets hurt. At its worse the power can cause severe internal damage and damage to the skeletal system of organic creatures.

When not fully conscious, his subconscious mind projects a telekinetic field allowing him to feel what’s around him and small objects are usually levitated a few inches from whatever surface they are on. He can close his eyes and concentrate / meditate to project this field. It requires concentration to maintain this "detection" field, but it can be useful when conditions limit sight. He has developed a version of radar with this ability.

Other: Benjamin has a dog named Luna, a husky that he found as a puppy while he was on the run.She can be tempermental at times, but she listens to him and reads his expressions when meeting new people. She's very energetic and lovable. Socialized to a degree from living with her litter for a bit before Ben found her abandoned and starving in a ransacked village.

He will also talk in this color

Last edited by Glacier on Fri Sep 16, 2011 11:00 pm, edited 12 times in total.